


headlights grow ambulances.

by alright_alright



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Childhood Memories, Childhood Trauma, Confessions, Dialogue Heavy, Emotionally Repressed, Hurt/Comfort, Music, Nostalgia, Oblivious, Pining, Secrets, There's a lot of swearing, and it's not a big deal at all, awkward craig, but i'm sure you guys don't care because we all watch south park lol, but it is, especially the shitty ones, i don't say it's one, i'm just really into old cars guys, it's a little sappy, mentions of abuse, mixtapes, speaking of shit, there's a ford bronco in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-03 19:50:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12755022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alright_alright/pseuds/alright_alright
Summary: Craig's emotionally locked up, without alcohol. Tweek has no whiskey and a mouth that doesn't shut up.





	headlights grow ambulances.

**Author's Note:**

> so i was writing this as a chapter for my other story, rose from the big sleep, and it kind of turned into its' own thing. it relates to that story but can def be read alone. for those who have read that story, i'm sorry it's probably never gonna get finished :/ ...but this stands alone and is done!! whoot.
> 
> i love to hear what you guys have to say! also, if you have any prompts for other stories you wanna read, totally suggest them to me. even if it's just like playground bros or visually impaired bats. i don't know what i'm saying bats are blind lol why am i awake
> 
> <3 thanks for reading!

When lights bore the highway, Craig is sure that he can jump in the middle of the freeway and be swallowed whole. It wouldn’t be unpleasant, he’s convinced that those cars are capable of carrying him away to safety. Like an ambulance. Like his mother’s old Jeep, to oblivion.

He collects pennies and thoughts.

“You’re such a liar.” Tweek’s face is very clear and Craig could do a lot of things in this moment but he doesn’t do anything he wants to. He focuses on the ground. It’s far after daybreak, a winter’s Saturday and the woods are fresh. They can barely see the highway from where they’re walking. Craig doesn’t want to think about the highway anymore.

“Am not.” He says, instead, not very sure what they’re even arguing about.

“Sure, sure, okay.”

“Tweek,” Craig starts slowly. “There’s something I should,” He breathes. “Tell you.”

“Are you in _trouble_? Oh God.”

“No, I’m not --- well, actually, I don’t know. Probably.”

“What? Jesus, what do you mean you don’t know?!”

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” Craig repeats as he stares into the sky, headlight glow in the fading blue, over the cliffside.

“How serious is this?” Tweek whispers, wide eyed. “What did you do?”

“Nothing. I didn’t _do_ anything yet,” Craig resolves. “I thought a lot about some things I shouldn’t.” Craig pulls out this old oil can he used to carry around in High School. It’s a flashback. He always told Tweek bees lived in there. Tweek’s certain that’s bullshit. Tweek comes closer to peer at it. “I don’t want to carry this anymore.”

“Aren’t your bees dead by now?” Craig shakes his head, a small and grim smile on his face.

“No, no. They don’t really die.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, man?”

“Eternal life. Magic. Fuck, I’ll be your sidekick.” Craig says, with eyes glazing over vacantly.

“Is, is your dad back around?” Tweek says, with a clenched fist.

“That’s not why,” Craig fumbles with the can. “That’s not why.”

“Well, why are you digging this old thing up? I, I never thought bees were in there anyway.”

“No, there are bees in here. I promise you. They’ll sting you,” Craig mumbles. “Seems like only after they’ve done their damage do they die.” Tweek puts out his hands.

“Well... _can_ I, can I open it?” Tweek asks, curiously. He can’t help himself. He’s been wondering about that thing for almost eleven years now.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’re going to get hurt.”

“I can take care of myself. I’m not a baby.”

“I know you can, Tweek,” Craig says, looking into his friend’s eyes briefly. He sets the can on the ground. “Just, promise me you’ll wait until I’m dead.”

“How long do I have to wait for _that_? Eternity, man, we’re stuck together. You promised me.”

“I did?”

“Yeah. When we were,” Tweek rubs at his face. “When we were by the farmhouse last night. You got totally shitfaced.”

“Fuck, did I,” Craig starts, obviously disturbed. “Did I say anything?”

“Yeah, you said a lot of shit, man,” Tweek scoffs. “You were really drunk.” Tweek kicks lightly at Craig’s shoe. Craig puts his head in his arms and sits in the snow. Tweek leans down and rests a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You okay?”

“You shouldn’t,” Craig sighs. “Touch me.” Tweek frowns and takes his hand off.

“Sorry.” He cringes.

“It’s not your fault. It’s my problem. I’m working on it, I promise.” Craig’s voice is muffled and broken sounding from his sleeves.

“How do I help you?”

“Nothing, Tweek. It’s nothing.”

“It’s obviously something, dude! Look at you. You’re upset but you’re, you’re very closed off,” Tweek sits down next to Craig, the snow crunches underneath and his pants are getting drenched but he doesn’t care. “I mean, look at _this_ ,” Tweek pokes at the can. “You’re so mysterious, man.”

“I’m not trying to be.”

“I know,” Tweek sighs thoughtfully and watches the cars cross the freeway. “I wish I could see what it’s like. To feel what you do, you know?

“It’s wrong, Tweek. That’s all it is.”

“What’s wrong?” Tweek asks, carefully. 

“Everything. It’s all fucked up. I’m real fucked up.” The freeway sparkles and shines in the cool air. Tweek watches his friend’s bent and twisted frame. It makes him sad. Tweek doesn’t know what else to do, so he just stretches his arms wide and hugs Craig, who lets out a winded noise of surprise.

“I know you don’t like me touching you lately so, so just tell me to stop and I’ll stop,” Craig stays silent and Tweek sighs, feeling somewhat grateful. The sigh rumbles through Craig and gets to him. “Listen, okay? Everyone’s got problems. But you aren’t, Christ, you _aren’t_ fucked up,” Tweek mutters. Craig tenses. “You are fucking miserable, though. I just want to help you.”

“You won’t understand.” Craig croaks.

“I don’t have to to see you’re in pain. Maybe if I  _know_ what’s bothering you, I can make it easier, man.”

“How can you care so much?” Craig asks, adjusting himself so Tweek is no longer holding onto him.

“Because! I don’t, _ngh_ , I don’t know! It’s all I think about, really,” Tweek shuffles some snow with his feet. “I just want to see you smile again. I miss it.” Craig stares ahead, blankly.

“If you knew, you wouldn’t.” Craig starts, slowly. He doesn’t finish his thought, just tightens his mouth to a thin line.

“If I knew I wouldn’t care anymore? Is that what you think, man?” Tweek frowns. “What, you didn’t kill anyone, did you?”

“No.” Craig dismisses.

“Hurt anyone?”

“No.”

“Do something illegal?”

“No.” Craig replies, thoughtfully.

“Then what’s _so_ bad?” Tweek asks, eyes scanning his friend’s face. Craig looks away, uncomfortable. “I just care about you. But you, you don’t have to... _tell_ me, I guess.” He sighs, seeming to give up.

“If I could, I would.” Craig mumbles.

“What am I gonna do? Why are you so scared to let it out, dude?” Tweek gestures to himself wildly. “It, it’s that I’m fucking intense, right? That’s what you’re saying to me?”

“No, it's not that,” Craig says, rubbing his hands together. The air coming from his mouth puffs out like cigarette smoke. It’s cold. Tweek eyes him, concerned and takes his hands, cautiously. Craig stiffens. “What are you doing?”

“Shh.” Tweek says, quietly and hums a slow song as he concentrates on kneading Craig’s hands.

“What’s that?” Craig asks, voice breaking.

“Huh?”

“What you were just humming.”

“It’s uh, an old Appalachian song.”

“Oh. It’s pretty.” Craig says. Tweek eyes Craig and smiles, still holding onto his hands, tightly.

“You wanna sing it?”

“I don’t know the words.” Craig says, dumbly. Tweek laughs and it’s pretty golden.

“That’s okay. You can just sit there and be my muse.” Craig reddens, but Tweek just thinks it’s from the cold.

“Your muse?”

“Mhmm, you’re my muse, man. Always.” Tweek begins singing quietly and Craig’s not really sure he can hold himself back from all the thoughts that keep running. Tweek’s voice is a warm one and Craig hates the cold. The song, about crows or something, melts away ice and sounds like leaves in the forest, rushing through breezes. It feels like dusk in a cornfield, the end of summer. Tweek’s voice is nicotine. Craig is suddenly very aware of Tweek’s hands and he can’t really breathe.

“Tweek.” Craig interrupts, though it pains him.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t think you should touch me.”

“You’re freezing, though! What, are you are a piece of china or something? You fragile fucking butterfly.” Tweek rolls his eyes, sighing frustratedly and lets go of Craig’s hands.

“I’m not.”

“Craig, just,”  Tweek stares, very close. Craig feels like relaxing and running at the same time. “You,” Tweek starts. “You said _a lot_ of things last night.”

“I did?” Craig nearly stutters. Tweek nods emphatically. He bites his lip.

“You drank a shitload,” Tweek curls his fingers around in the air, like he’s not sure where to put them. “Didn’t you, _ngh_ , wonder what you did to have a killer hangover?

“Fuck,” Craig hisses. "Fuck." He repeats and tugs at his hat anxiously. Tweek raises his eyebrows.

“You said that you _l-loved_ me,” Tweek frowns at his stutter. He barely stutters anymore, ever since they got out of High School. He took classes. He's worked on it and now the stupid thing's coming back. “And, and you wanted to raise a dog pack together. Then you fell down a long hill and nearly got hit by a car.” Tweek laughs. Craig’s very silent. He isn’t looking at Tweek and the laughter eerily dead by now.

“I.” Craig says but never finishes the thought. He glares a spot in the earth, attempting to process everything.

“It’s, it's _okay_. I’m not afraid for once.” Tweek lies. He’s incredibly nervous and his insides are infested with fluttery bugs but whatever. Craig’s in much worse shape than him today.

“What ar---” Tweek pulls Craig to his feet. “Where are we going?”

“We’re letting go. We’re moving on, yeah? Give me the can.” Tweek says. Craig doesn’t move to do anything, so Tweek eventually grabs the tin can off the ground and runs to the edge of the cliff. He peers down over the rocks and brambles. Craig follows him, slowly.

“Shit, that’s steep.”

“It's hard to get at, too.” Tweek agrees and starts unscrewing the cap of the oil can. Craig holds his breath. Tweek is half expecting to get stung. He frowns when nothing flies out or even buzzes in there, with the lid yanked off. Tweek glances down into the can, but it’s darkness; he doesn’t see anything. He kneels in the snow, shakes out whatever he thinks is in there. Things rattle and jingle. They fall all around. An assortment of small objects and pieces of paper fly out of the corner of Tweek's eye but he faces Craig immediately, who looks pissed. “You look pissed.”

"Okay, I feel a little pissed.”

“Wanna hit something?”

“Yeah.”

“What about these?” Tweek points to everything that came out of the can “Hit them down to the freeway?” Tweek’s not even really caring about the contents of the oil can anymore, and this comforts Craig a lot. He nods.

“Yeah. I do.”

“Good, go for it.” Tweek gestures at the small pile of stuff and steps aside. Craig looks at it and Tweek for a moment, before he trudges through the snow and starts kicking the objects down the hill. Papers fly, small pieces of writing and Craig just spends a long time kicking, pushing everything down that hill. He stomps on, shreds and breaks things. He glances over at Tweek, who’s staring at him instead of whatever was in the can. Tweek gives him a small, reassuring smile.

“I,” Craig starts, slightly out of breath. He looks around for something else to take his frustration out on, but he doesn’t see anything left. He seems to have kicked it all down the hill and broken everything in sight. “I think I’m done.” Tweek looks around, spotting a small roll of old film, near his foot. He points at it.

“You forgot that.” Craig, confused, arches down to pick up the roll.

“I forgot about this.” Craig handles film carefully and turns it over in hands.

“That’s what I _just_ told you.” Tweek rolls his eyes.

“I don’t remember what’s on it, Tweek.” Craig says, intensely, like this a very important moment.

“Oh,” Tweek mumbles, unsure of what to say. “Sorry?” Craig handles it carefully and the action reminds Tweek of how he used to hold that whole can on the bus. How he used to guard it. Craig glances up into Tweek’s face.

“Want to look at it with me?” Tweek furrows his brows.

“ _Really_? You, you mean you'll let me?” He asks, wide-eyed.

“Yeah. Yeah. I think,” Craig sighs. “I think I’m okay with it.”

“If you’re sure. I don’t need to, though.” Tweek says, trying to be calm about this, but he’s really fricking curious. Craig smiles slightly at his willpower.

“Yeah, I’m sure, buddy,” Craig starts walking and he can see headstones in the distance. “We’ll look in the truck. Wanna cut through the cemetery?” Tweek makes a face.

“That place gives me the creeps.” Craig shakes his head.

“Baby.” He mutters, fondly. Tweek catches up to him so they’re side by side.

“You’re the baby, man, the only reason you wanna cut through there is cause you’re fucking cold.”

“Am not.”

“Sure, so you won’t mind if I,” Tweek grabs Craig’s hat and holds onto it. “Do this!”

“Motherfucker!” Craig shouts, grabbing for his hat. Tweek laughs and holds it back. “So what if I’m cold? That makes me a baby?”

“Kind of king of babies, I'd say,” Tweek pulls off his hood and puts the hat on himself. “ _Whoa_ , look at me! I can finally flip people off and not care. I’m Craig, I’m physically incapable of owning my feelings. Fuck all of you.” Tweek waves his middle fingers around and Craig chucks snow at him.

“I have feelings.”

“Yeah, I know, but it takes about,” Tweek scoffs. “‘Bout seven beers and a bottle of whiskey to get them out of you.” Craig frowns.

“So what?”

“Nothing,” Tweek begins. “It’s just how you are. You’re a teenager’s diary and I’m an open _psychology_ textbook.”

“Why do you get to be the textbook? You make me sound angsty.”

“Maybe you are angsty. You keep a helluva lot of secrets, Craig. You just gotta,” Tweek shrugs. “Let things happen. Don’t listen to what your family says.” Tweek adds, earnestly.  

“So, your advice would be that to care, I have to _not_ care...?”

“Just what people _say_ about you! I dunno,” They’re cutting through the cemetery and the sky is almost dark. Craig looks so cold and Tweek feels some kind of pity. Tweek takes off the hat and stops Craig. He faces his friend and places the hat over his head, pulling it down so it’s covering most of his forehead. Tweek holds onto the strings, his fingers curling. The chilled air billows out his mouth and onto Craig's face. Craig looks down. “When you need me, man, I’m here. Always. Whenever you’re ready, okay?” Craig eyes stay trained to the snow. Tweek pats his cheek. “You ready?”

“Huh?” Craig asks, dumbly.

“To go, you wanna go home now?” Tweek asks, softly.

“Tweek, wait,” Craig sighs. “What’s that song you were singing, back there?”

“Why? You wanna sing it?”

“I was hoping you would.” Craig says, sheepishly. Tweek shrugs.

“Guess I can, weirdo.” He begins singing as they make their way to the old truck. The sky is dark by the time they make it and Tweek has finished his song. They climb in the old thing. Craig starts it up. The heat takes a while to do anything and Tweek’s stuck rubbing his hands together. Craig pulls out the roll of film. He expands it, Tweek watches in the dark, trying to discern something. He flips on the lightswitch and leans back to look at the film under the glow. “What’s that?” Tweek asks, pointing to a blurry shot.

“I think it’s my foot.”

“Huh,” Tweek’s eyes dart around the negatives. He sticks his thumb over another frame. “Who's this? Looks like someone.” Craig puts the film down.

“It’s you, you bat,” Tweek narrows his eyes. "Where are your glasses?"

“I don't know, Craig, where is your last baby tooth?"

"What the fuck, Tweek? Why would I know where that is?"

"Exactly, that's my point!"

"I'm confused."

"Craig, just... _okay_ , I broke the damn glasses! Is that what you wanted me to say?"

"How'd you break them?"

"Does that matter? Just, okay, how old are these photos?”

“Must be from tenth or eleventh grade.” Craig says suspiciously. 

“When all that shit went down with Clyde?” Tweek asks, in attempt to get off the subject of his glasses that he totally did not drop in the toilet, exactly like Craig said he would. Craig puts the film back up to the light.

“I think it was after," Craig answers. "Did they fall in the toilet?" He asks, knowingly. 

“Fuck you," Tweek grumbles. "I _still_ don’t know what happened, with Clyde.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t remember, even.” Tweek rolls his eyes and looks back at the film.

“You’re a liar.” He mumbles.

“Maybe.” Tweek points at one of the other pictures.

“Hey, isn’t that me, too?”

“Probably,” Craig admits. “You could look in the mirror to be sure, though.” Craig adds, trying to be sarcastic. Tweek ignores his comment.

“You took so many photos.” Tweek says. “How many negatives are here?” He asks, pawing at Craig’s hand.

“A lot more than I thought.” Tweek gets ahold of a few more and looks at them. His breathing is the loudest thing in the truck and Craig should feel claustrophobic but he doesn't. 

“Wow, you were so in love with me,” Tweek reflects, nonchalantly. Craig seems to think it’s a big deal. His heart feels like it’s gonna explode soon. “I don’t even remember you taking these. Am I sleeping here? Creepy.”  

“I, no?” Craig stumbles. Tweek looks at him, amused.

“I’m just joking with you. Don’t get all flustered. It’s fine,” Tweek peers at the ones Craig’s holding. “What’re those?”

“Nothing.” Craig moves the photos down and Tweek frowns.

“I thought you said I could, that I could look with you.”

“They’ll just make you sad.”

“You held onto them for a reason,” Tweek stares until Craig hands them over, begrudgingly. “Thanks, man.” Tweek holds them up to the light to see what they are. At first, he can’t really tell. Seems like shots of body parts and he recognizes Craig’s arm, though it’s really badly bruised. All of them are badly bruised, the longer he looks and all of them are Craig. There’s a shot of Craig’s back, with welts and cuts all over it. One of his stomach, too.

“Tweek.”  

“Hm.” Tweek answers with a slight growl, realizing this is the first time he’s actually seen the extend of physical abuse his best friend suffered throughout high school.

“Tweek. I’m fine. It’s over now.”

“No, it’s not! The bastard, the fucking asshole! It’s so lasting, don’t you see, man?” Craig looks away. “Why did you take these anyway?”

“It was an association trick. I don’t know. I thought that I could,” Craig holds onto the handle of the truck’s door. “Remind myself why I’m not supposed to,” Craig cringes. “You know.”

“No, I _don’t_ , Craig. I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about. Why torture yourself and, and keep these photos around?! Untie the goddamn _noose_ , man! Christ, haven’t you been through enough?!”

“I don’t know.” Craig says, shifting. Tweek frowns, feeling a little guilty for yelling.

“I’m not, not mad at _you_ ," Tweek begins. "Even though you are a fucking liar.”

“I’m not trying to lie to you.”

“Look, listen,” Tweek sighs. “I, I know that. I know, I just, what’s your key, man?”

“Huh?”

“Like, the code, the digits that get you to open up and talk to me. I’ve been trying to, to figure it out for years. I can’t break it, well, I mean, not without whiskey. I don’t like seeing you _that_ drunk, though.”

“I feel compelled to tell you I’m not a safe.”

“Craig, just, okay,” Tweek frowns and looks at the clock. “I, I know you gotta get shit from your mom’s house tonight. We should leave now, though, or else...is your dad there, too?” Tweek looks at the photos and his hands flutter. He puts them in the glove compartment. “They’ll fuck you up. I know they hate me,” Tweek's knuckles are shaking and he frustratedly tries to have a grip on them. “But there's no way I'm letting you go th-there alone.” He snarls.

“I don’t need a bodyguard,” Tweek scoffs and Craig glares. “It’s over. They won’t do anything to me.”

“I'll go with you. I'll, I'm gonna lose my shit if he tries anything, I swear.”

“They don’t hate you, you know?” Craig says. “They just hate how I am around you.”

“How are you around me? Besides an annoying asshole who won’t take help.”

“Obsessed.”

“Oh. _Oh_.” Tweek slumps, guiltily. He thinks on it for a minute. “Fuck, did _I_ do this, all along? Was it, was it this bad because of me? Did I make things worse for you?” Tweek points madly at the photos.

“It’s not on you. You can’t help how you are. You’re just,” Craig scrunches up his face, like the word physically pains him. “Likeable.”

“You don’t have to lie to me. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe they did this to you.” Craig pulls out more photos and sorts through them, looking for something to distract Tweek from this conversation.

“Hey, Tweek, look at this one,” He says, pointing to a clear shot. “Remember that?”

“Yeah. I think Token took it.”

“He might have.”

“You look really happy there.”

“It was summer.”

“By the cornfield?”

“Mhm.”

“I think, I think that was the day that I was going to tell you but you were so damn smiley. I didn’t want to ruin it,” Tweek pulls out more negatives and holds them up to the light. He narrows his eyes, to see better. “Here’s a good one.”

“What were you going to tell me?” 

“That’s where I wish we could live.” 

“In the cornfield? It’d be fucking cold in the winter.”

“No, in the, the photo, man,” Tweek touches it. “You were so happy.” 

“What were you going to tell me?”

“Huh?”

“What were you going to say that day?”

“Did you just rhyme?”

“Tweek.” Craig groans.

“What? Fine,” Tweek rolls his eyes. “I was just gonna tell you Clyde was right about me. About what he said. He was trying to get one of us to go out with Bebe’s cousin. Remember?”

“Think so.”

“Didn’t you go out with her?” 

“Yeah. She wasn’t into me.”

“ _Really_?”

“She said I was too broody and I needed to get my shit together.”

“You were kind of emo.”

“Fuck that. Clyde was pissed. Him and Bebe broke things off a few weeks later. Only part of the fight I can remember.”

“He was pissed because of that?” Tweek shakes his head. “Classic shit-for-brains-Clyde.”

“There were other things.” Craig adds, quietly. 

“I’m not really, not really scared anymore.”

“Of what?”

“I know you love me. You’ve been saying it for years, pretty much every time you get wasted.” Craig stays silent. “Look, I don’t really care what other secrets you keep to yourself. We’re all,” Tweek puts the photos down. He shuts off the light. “We’re all allowed to have secrets. You don’t _have_ to, though. You _can_ tell me.”

“You don’t hate me for it?” Craig asks, after a long time of sitting in silence.

“Why would I? You know who hates love?” Tweek asks and he can barely see Craig’s shoulders shrugging in the darkness. He leans in and whispers: “Shitty people.”

“That was really insightful,” Craig sniffs, laughing a bit. It's the first time he's laughed in weeks. “I know a lot of shitty people, then.” He adds, soberly.

“I’m not in that ‘shitty people’ circle, 'cause, I mean, I would follow you to your grave. You gotta know that, right?” 

“What?” Craig asks, sounding surprised. 

“Come on, man, isn’t it kind of, _I don’t know_ ,” Tweek hisses. “Crystal clear that I love you, too?”

“Uh, _what_?”

“Did you not know?” Tweek widens his eyes and covers his mouth. He laughs. “Oh my god, Craig, _you’re_ the fucking scatterbrain.”

“You,” Craig starts, placing his hands flat in front of him, on the steering wheel. Tweek can barely see, but they’re shaking a little. It’s kind of endearing. “How?”

“What do you mean _‘how’_? I don’t know, I'm terrible at science and life in general. I don’t understand how anything _works_ , all I know is that it does. I thought you caught on back in junior year.” 

“ _Junior_ year?” Craig asks, voice breaking. 

“You didn’t think it was weird when I gave you that cassette in February? On Valentine's Day, come on, I was being fucking cliche and obvious.” 

“What cassette?” Tweek frowns and waves his hands around.

“The cassette! It was a mixtape! I recorded it, it took _hours_. You were, you were always raving about music and _shit_ , fuck, you don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea.” Craig says, eyes wide in the dark.

“I gave it to Token to give to you. He said he would.”

“He doesn't talk to me anymore, not after that fight.” 

“Fuck, _really_?! Really? What a bastard,” Tweek narrows his eyes and scrunches his nose. “What the hell did he do with it? I, I told him, _you_ know, how cuckoo I was for you,” Tweek waves his hands around. Craig sits, stunned into a weird kind of silence. “And I didn’t want to give it to you. ‘Cause you had some scary death glares those days. Like, seriously, in junior year, if you had given me one of those, I’d have flipped, especially over this. Token, he _said_ he’d do it.” Tweek rants on. “It had a lot of good stuff on there. It was classy.”

“Classy?” Craig asks, seeming to capable of only repeating words that Tweek has said.

“Damn straight it was _classy_. I have culture, asswipe. Dorothy Lamour was on it. Probably Perry Como, too. I can’t remember.”

“Perry Como? Your old man music, you mean?”

“They got the point across. _I_ thought,” They’re silent for a few minutes. The truck is really warm now, finally, and Tweek takes off his jacket and gloves. He looks over at Craig, who hasn’t really moved at all. Tweek is nearly concerned he gave his friend a heart attack. “Hey, Craig,” Tweek says, quietly. “We’ve been sitting here for a long time. We’re kind of just idling now. We should probably get going.”

“Tweek,” Craig heaves a sigh, sounding like his lungs are giving out their last breath. It’s loud and unbroken. He rests his head on the steering wheel and stares at the silhouette of his friend. “I love you.” He says it so quietly that Tweek’s almost not sure he heard it.

“I know,” Tweek grins. He flips on the light, to make sure Craig’s still breathing. They both squint. Tweek leans over the dash, resting his head on his hands. “Thanks for saying it sober. I appreciate it.” 

“Asshole.”

“I love you, too. I really do,” Tweek grabs Craig’s hand. It’s cold but for the first time, Craig’s grip is strong. Tweek’s smile is a warm glow and Craig’s face feels like it's’ eating fire. “Your parents are wrong, okay? They’re messed up, you’re nothing like them,” Tweek continues. “You lived life their way too damn long. It’s your choice,” Tweek sighs. “Okay?” 

“Yeah,” Craig says, a little shakily. “Okay.”

“Good. Now, drive me home. I’m hungry,” Craig’s still silent so Tweek buckles. He has to let go of Craig’s hand to do so and misses the feeling. He puts the radio on. Craig’s still not saying anything or moving, just staring stupidly at Tweek. Tweek raises his eyebrow. “What?” 

“Nothing.”

“Then stop staring at me and drive.”

“If,” Craig grimaces. “ _Fuck_ , okay,” He whispers and focuses his attention on Tweek’s hands. It’s the little strings all over those fingers that get him. How is he running out of space to hold onto all these things that come from his head? “Tweek.”  

“Yeah?”

“Uh, Tweek.”

“ _What_?”

“Would you, uh,” Craig stutters and Tweek laughs. He’s never had the chance to be the one with proper enunciation. “What are you laughing at?” Craig asks, instead. Tweek rolls his eyes and snatches Craig’s hat off. He flings it to the floor in front of him. “The fuck.”

“It’s soaked, come on, man.”

“Now it’s all dirty.” Craig sulks a little.

“Okay, fine. If that’s your damage, I’ll wash the damn thing. I wanted to get a better look at your pretty face. What were you stuttering on about?”

“Uhm.”

“Uhm, uhm, Craig,” Tweek mocks. “Here, come closer,” Craig does so slowly and Tweek puts his hand over Craig’s neck, feeling for a pulse. “ _Jesus_ , man.” Tweek laughs at the speed of it.

“What was that for?”

“Just wanted to be sure you weren’t lying.”

“I wouldn’t lie about this.” Craig says very seriously.

“I’m just, I was just messing with you."

"Oh." Craig says dumbly. "Tweek." 

"Craig, just shut up," Tweek says affectionately. He unbuckles and pulls Craig close. He isn't surprised when he hears sniffling loud in his ear. Craig's no longer tense but he's still breathing in rapidly. "You don't have to go back alone. You don't even have to go back at all." Tweek whispers and Craig's heart feels like bombs. "Okay?" Tweek pushes his friend back to look at his red face. Tweek curls his finger's over Craig's cheekbones and dries off the tears. "Don't want you to drown."

"Everyone dies, Tweek."

" _Except_ you and me! We're still gonna live on. You still gotta be my sidekick." 

"Why do I have to be the sidekick?"

"It's my story, dumbass. I'm really just keeping you in it for your looks anyway. You don't actually have super powers."

"What? I have super powers." Craig says, still red-faced.

"Like what?"

"Good stuff. I don't know. Magic?"

"See, this, this fucking shit is why you're the sidekick. Sidekicks don't plan anything. All the pressure's on me! That's how it works." They continue to fall back into their old patterns of bickering and it's familiar except it's guaranteed now. Craig feels unreal and bright. Bees still sting but a camera refuses to lie. This is the last time they will be like this. The lights are boring, the highway hums vacant notes that no one's listening to. They’re both under the impression that neither of them will die in this shitty town and isn’t it a wonderful feeling?


End file.
